Lady Heather's Revenge
by i-love-svu
Summary: Set during Pirates of the Third Reich. Contains spoilers if you haven't seen it. Heather gets revenge on the man that murdered her daughter. Rated M for violence. Complete.


**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI or GMC. Using them only to entertain myself and a few other. **

**Spoilers: Pirates of the Third Reich**

**Author's Note: I finally got around to fixing this story so it was more like Lady Heather's character. Let me know how I'm doing, please and thank you. :)

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He's right here before me, the man that killed her. I could punish him several ways, but there is only one I am interested in.

I stand a good four feet in front of him, whip held tightly in my hand.

He's still unconscious from the blow I delivered to his head with the pipe I brought with me. Now he's tied tightly to the grill of my Suburban, almost dangling, his shoulders look as if they're going to pop out of their sockets. Good, he deserves it.

But that's not nearly enough; He's not going anywhere until he pays for what he did.

I glance down at the whip; it's one of my better tools of inflicting pain. The leather gives a sharp crack as I snap into the air, warming up for the agony I'm going to impose.

I jump. Seven years as a dominatrix and that sound still gets a rise out of me.

He's stirring now; slowly and unsteadily, he raises his head in confusion and looks around at his surroundings.

I chose to make him suffer not in my Domain, but rather out here in the desert. Grissom told me they had found her body out here, but I could be way off.

The clear sky is mesmerizing, with a few stars here and there.

A slight wind propels my hair up into my face. I brush it off faster than it had gotten there.

This just looks like a nice place to kill this bastard.

"Heather? What's going on?" He asks, tugging at the ropes binding him to the front of the vehicle.

I consider not answering him, just going on with making him suffer. But the longer I talk and keep him hostage, the longer I can frighten him.

Make him wonder what I'm going to do. Just like those people he used as test rats.

"Oh, awake I see. You are going to pay for what you did," I angrily retort.

He's becoming worried; I can tell by the way he's trying to get loose and run away from me.

"It's no use," I chuckle evilly at his pathetic attempts. "I know how to tie knots. It won't come untied."

"Let me go. We can work out whatever I did!" He begs.

"Work out what you did! You killed my daughter. My child, you sick bastard!" I scream, letting go of the emotions I've kept pent up for the past three days.

The terror in his eyes is evident now; Even from my distance away I can see the fear.

"I wasn't expecting you to wake up so soon; Guess we'll just have to get things rolling now."

I tighten my grip, if that's possible, on the whip. I take a step toward him and lash the leather into his skin.

He howls in pain and glances down at the mark I've left on his chest. Blood has been drawn, the skin around the wound red from the impact.

"Heather, no! Please not again!" He pleads.

"You killed Zoe!"

For the first time, it becomes real. My baby is dead; and he killed her. The mixture of pain and anger courses through my body, making my rage unstoppable.

I crack the whip repeatedly into his chest and arms, his cries for me to stop are barely heard. How could he do such a thing?

I'm neither sweating nor tired. Just out of breath. The thoughts of Zoe just before her death and the movement in which I'm hitting him are sucking the air right out of me.

"Heather, please," He moans.

His torso is now covered in cuts from the whip. I can see the blood drops from each wound; One drop where the whip cut into his skin and another where it exited, and a few drops in between.

"Quiet!" I shout. I'm no where near done with him.

The wind blows again, rustling the leaves on the bushes and trees surrounding us. My coat that matches the color of the dark sky billows out behind me.

As it dies down, I look down at my right hand; my knuckles are white from clinging onto the whip.

The anger and misery I feel right now are not dying down, as the wind has, and I'm not upset about that. This man has hurt me in an unthinkable way.

My fury boils again and I thrash him with the whip numerous times. Each time he cries out for me to stop, it feeds my rage and energy, making me feel a mix of emotions and fueling me to cause him even more pain.

"Please. I'm sorry," He whimpers.

Several cuts are now on his face and neck. I briefly consider strangling him with the tool in my hand. But I'm not ready for him to die just yet.

"I said be quiet. Why did you kill her!" My voice cracks, and I realize that it will not be long before I start crying.

The wind blows yet again and I feel goose bumps arise all over my body. My teeth chatter for a moment but then I regain focus on my mission.

He doesn't answer. He simply drops his head; I can hear his sobs.

"Good," I think to myself. "But he's still not going anywhere."

I draw the whip back over my left shoulder and deliver another strike. He mumbles to himself something I can't understand, and I continue on my rampage.

One, and then two cracks. The new cuts are indistinguishable from the old. He pants, trying to breathe through the pain.

"Breathing differently won't help you; I am going to make you suffer more than you already are," I softly say through my gritted teeth.

He inhales sharply and tugs violently at the ropes keeping him tied. After a few moments he .gives up.

"You didn't believe me when I said you won't get free?"

He glances up at me; I'm standing directly in front of him now.

My arms hang loosely at my sides. I'm not tired and I'm not quitting. The aggression comes alive once again as I look back at him.

With sharp precision, I am able to hit him just below his waist. He screams, shrill and panicky.

I realize that I'm taking short gasping breaths. I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. Now if my heart would just calm down.

He whimpers again even though I wasn't going to hit him again just yet.

"She didn't even look like you," He chuckles, thinking I cannot hear him.

I swallow hard and feel my heartbeat increase to where I'm no longer sure if it's beating at all.

"You son of a bitch!" I lash out again and again, my strength suddenly growing stronger.

He whines like a whipped dog with each hit; I continue, now feeling no mercy at all.

I back up a few feet, making him think I'm going to stop for a moment.

I gasp. As I drive the whip into his already severely lacerated skin, I take a step with each strike, making it more painful

"Heather!" He mumbles. I can hardly understand him, for the cuts on his cheeks and around his mouth seem to have obstructed his speech. "Please stop!"

After striking him one more time, I take a break. The whip still tightly grasped in my right hand, I turn to face the wind. My hair catches the wind and blows out behind me, cooling off my face and neck.

I guess it really hurts that Zoe's dead because we hadn't spoken in over a year. She stopped talking to me after I reported her therapist.

I was looking forward to having a grandchild. I figured Zoe just needed some time to cool down then she'd call me and we'd get together and figure things out.

But now she's dead and I don't know if I have a grandchild out there somewhere or not.

Breathing steadily, I walk back to the spot where my shoe prints and disturbed sand lie waiting; He whimpers quietly as I approach him.

"No," He softly pleads.

He's losing his voice; All the screaming and begging, he's losing his voice. I wrap my fingers around the leather in my hand one finger at a time.

"Just tell me why you did it," I irritably ask, my teeth gritted so hard my head instantly starts to ache.

He doesn't answer.

My rage skyrockets again. My chest is heaving and suddenly I realize I'm hyperventilating.

I can't control anything anymore. Not even myself.

A hear a noise behind me as I drive the leather into his skin. He simply moans quietly.

Another noise behind me. This time, I identify the sound as a car door closing. Who the hell could it be?

Ignoring the car, I gasp with each crack of the whip; unexpectedly, I'm emotional.

"Heather!" A gruff voice calls out from behind me. "Stop it!"

I can hear the man's footsteps; He's rushing towards me.

"No," I seethe. I deliver two more strikes, and more agonized groans come from the bastard tied to my car. "Let me finish."

I draw the whip over my right shoulder, preparing to give him a rather painful blow but someone else is now holding the leather at the other end.

Confused and angry, I spin around.

It's him.

Grissom.

I desperately try to pull the whip away from him. His strength is overwhelming. I give a sharp gasp as I feel tears sting my eyes.

"You cannot do this!"

"No!" I scream like a petulant two year old. "Let go! Let…!"

He shows no signs of giving me back my weapon; He's trying to wrestle it away from me, pulling harshly at the leather I'm clinging onto.

"No!" He's not giving in. Can't he see the pain this bastard has caused me?

"Please!"

I'm trying my hardest to get the whip back, but my muscles are tired. Never before in my life have I pushed myself so hard to inflict so much pain.

Once again I become aware that I'm having trouble breathing. The feeling of something heavy on my chest isn't my biggest concern at the moment.

"Stop!" He orders. Tears begin flowing down my cheeks, my damp hair sticks to my cheeks as I continue to fight him. "Heather!"

"Please," I sob.

"I'm saying stop," He says much more calmly than before.

Taking gasping breaths, I'm becoming aware that this isn't going to end how I planned.

He tightly grasps the whip and slowly pulls me towards him. My bottom lip is trembling and I'm no longer worried about the bastard I was ready to kill a moment ago.

I'm directly in front of him now. I drop the whip as I close my eyes. I can't hold my emotions in any longer.

I collapse into his chest, sobbing uncontrollably. He wraps his arms around me, comforting me.

As the tears run freely down my cheeks, I feel that for the first time, it's okay to cry.

Grissom whispers in my ear that it'll be okay. I hope that he's right.

He holds me as I sob, letting go of the pain that was eating me alive.

I've never been more thankful for human contact in my life. His hug sent me crashing down over the deep edge. It was just what I needed to start on the painful road of getting over Zoe's death.

And hopefully he'll be there to help me back up.


End file.
